


Bring Your Good Times

by azephirin



Series: Ghosts [7]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, pike's demotion party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>We're gonna have a good time tonight.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Your Good Times

**Author's Note:**

> More from the [Ghosts](http://archiveofourown.org/series/2586) 'verse. Title and summary from "[Celebration](http://www.weddingvendors.com/music/lyrics/k/kool-and-the-gang/celebration/)," by Kool &amp; the Gang. *facepalm*

“He left his own party!” Jim sounds offended, though, relaxed with Nyota in his lap and his fingers curled around Spock’s, he doesn’t look particularly put-upon.

  
“Yes, I believe he and Captain One retired some time ago,” Spock replies.

Nyota laughs at the face Jim makes as he says, “You say that like they retired…you know…together.” His voice goes from offended to horrified.

“Jim, you are aware of Admiral Pike and Captain One’s committed romantic and presumably sexual—”

“Eeew!” Jim erupts. “Eeew! Eeew! Eeew!”

Spock’s left eyebrow elevates.

“Dude! It’s like picturing your parents doing it!”

“Merely acknowledging the admiral and the captain’s involvement does not necessitate—”

Jim covers his ears and sings, “Lalalalala I can’t hear you!”

Nyota, her head comfortable against his shoulder, laughs, and takes Spock’s other hand so that he can feel her warmth, amusement, and love.

“Perhaps we too should consider retiring,” Spock suggests.

“I’m traumatized and not speaking to you ever again,” Jim informs him.

“Speech is not required for a variety of activities best undertaken in private,” Spock answers serenely. “Indeed, it becomes in some instances physically impossible.”

“No, other way around: you totally owe me a blow job to help me recover from my trauma.”

Spock’s fingers trace up and down Jim’s, and Nyota feels Jim gasp beneath her. “Yeah,” he whispers in response to whatever Spock’s communicating. Jim swallows as, through their clothes, the shape and hardness of his cock become more pronounced. “I want that, too.”

“Tell me,” Nyota murmurs.

“I would prefer to demonstrate,” Spock says, expression unchanged but eyes intent, “if we may finally proceed upstairs.”

Nyota stands, and gently pulls Jim to his feet. Still gripping Spock’s hand, he kisses her, hard, ignoring wolf whistles from other partygoers. “Let’s retire,” he says, and they do.

 

+||+||+

In the lift up to their room, Rian leans against him and yawns. She’s softer like this, her edges put aside for a bit. “Who knew it could be so much fun to get demoted?”

“He’s not actually demoted,” McCoy points out. “Just reassigned.”

“Yeah,” says Rian, “but it’s more entertaining to call it ‘demoted.’” She wraps her arms around McCoy right as the lift arrives at their floor.

“Come on, baby girl,” he says gently. “Time to get off.”

She snickers.

He rolls his eyes. “How could I have forgotten that you become Jim Kirk when you’re drunk?”

“I’m wounded,” Rian says, and doesn’t detach.

McCoy bends his knees and, before she can protest, picks her up. “Jerk!” she yelps, and thwacks him on the shoulder.

“They’ll send Security up if we don’t get out of this thing. And you really must be drunk if ‘jerk’ is the best you can do.”

Rian’s coordinated enough to press her thumb to the reader at the door to their room, and he carries her inside. “Your ass is so paying for that tomorrow,” she grumbles.

McCoy sets her down, but she still doesn’t step away from him; he kisses her and says, “I’m looking forward to it.”

She stretches, and scratches her fingernails lightly over the nape of his neck; he shivers. “I feel like a bath before bed,” she says.

It’s an old porcelain bathtub, claw-footed with brass fixtures, and more than big enough for the two of them. He watches her undress, and she watches him; ever after all this time, it’s hard not to blush under her frank, affectionate, and appreciative gaze. Once they’re in the tub, Rian’s eyes close as she relaxes back against him, and they lie together in the warm water until they’re almost asleep.

+||+||+

“I should have a demotion party every year,” Chris says to One as he lays his shirt on the chair.

“Your logic contains multiple flaws,” she says. “First, the celebration honors your assignment to the _Suu Kyi_, which is not an annual event. Second, you retain the rank of admiral.”

One delivers this speech wearing nothing but her underwear—bra and panties that actually match, the first time Chris has ever seen such a thing on her—with her hair cascading around her shoulders.

He sits on the edge of the bed, draws her between his knees, and looks up at her. “Number One, I think we should get married.”

“You are unsatisfied with the present parameters of our relationship?” she asks, unperturbed.

“No,” Chris says, and slides his hands up her thighs to rest on her hips. “But it would be a great excuse for a party every year.”

“Conventionally, nuptials occur only once.”

“But then you have an anniversary,” he explains.

One considers. “You wish to wed in order to have cause for an annual social gathering?”

“Well,” Chris adds, “also, I love you.”

“I accept,” One says, and smiles back at him, genuine, unhesitating, rare, and precious.


End file.
